Protected Future
by AKGaston
Summary: Duo's idle musings in a bar. One-shot post EW angst fic, almost ficlet. PG-13 to R for language, but the swears are in Japanese.


Notes: Hello, I'm AK Gaston. This is my first fic, at least the first one posted here. Oh well, here goes. I don't mind criticism, so long as it is constructive. Enjoy. Oh yeah, this is an angst-filled one-shot. No sequels...unless people REALLY want them, but I don't see why.   
  
Time: After Endless Waltz, with minor spoilers.   
  
Disclaimer: If I owned Gundam Wing, why would I write fan fiction for it? (In other words, no I don't own it.)   
  
  
Protected Future   
  
~~~~~   
  
  
It was supposed to be simple.   
  
  
His hands shifted to cover his face, wisps of hair before his eyes.   
Simple. Right. Easy. Sure.   
  
Just take the thanks and go. You've worked off your penitence. Now you're a hero!   
  
His lips twisted at the word.   
  
Hero.   
  
...   
  
Reality was such a kick in the ass.   
  
His hands shifted again, adjusting the familiar black cap upon his head. Actually, it was brand-new, his fifth -wait, no. SIXTH- one owned. He had a habit of losing, forgetting or destroying them.   
  
The Great Destroyer...The God of Death... Shinigami... He Who Cannot Take Care Of A Baseball Cap.   
  
"Kuso!" He muttered, then twisted the cap again. Man, he wasn't even thinking in English anymore. His native tongue was foreign in his own mind.   
  
He was losing it.   
  
He was losing Duo Maxwell.   
  
He laughed without humor. "Duo Maxwell..." he softly mused. "Number Two. Two of five... Maybe six? Depends on if you count the Tall Blond Wonder... No, two of five. Gundam Pilot..." His lips curved in a self-mocking smile. "Orphan. Gutter trash. Murderer. Comic relief. Thief." Nails traced patterns on the fake wood. "...Shinigami..."   
  
The pads of his fingers found a nearly invisible nick in the surface.   
  
"How can one person be so much and still be nothing?"   
  
He watched condensation bead and fall from his glass onto the synthetic wood. He downed the shot of whiskey, admiring the burn of the high quality liquid.   
  
At least he could still feel something.   
  
The atmosphere of the place was lacking, but they served damn fine alcohol.   
  
He glanced around the perma-gloom of the bar. A smirk traced its way across his mouth. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all. It was made for people in his state of mind.   
  
Minutes ticked by after he turned back to his previous position. Then someone took the stool next to him. Duo nearly growled. Kusottare. There were plenty of other seats at the bar. Empty ones, AWAY from him. Couldn't they sense he wanted to be left alone?   
  
"Duo, you shouldn't be here."   
  
Brows shot up in amazement. "Quatre," He turned to face the other pilot. The blonde's hair shone like an angel's halo under the harsh lighting. The imagery was not lost on Duo. And the accursed little Empath could damn well sense the fact he wanted to be left alone!   
  
"Quatre, don't you have millions to control or something?" Oh wait; he was disowned... or something. Oh, well. He couldn't remember everything.   
  
The other smiled, slow and sad. "You are more important, Duo."   
  
Right.   
  
Bottle clanked against crystal. "Care for a drink?" Quatre saw the other's eyes to be clear and not phased by the alcohol, yet filled with tumultuous emotion. Glass slid across countertop.   
  
The blond one caught the glass, but didn't raise it. "Why are you doing this?" He asked, voice soft.   
  
Duo smiled again. Always cheerful. Never anything but.   
  
One wore a mask of distance, one innocence, one honor, one indifference, and the last of good cheer.   
  
Always smiling.   
  
He couldn't let it crack, though he had tried to abandon it. His own words came back to him. 'I may run, I may hide, but I never lie.' Was that in itself a lie? Or was hiding the only truth left?   
  
Quatre merely waited but it was as close to a benediction as Duo had come in years.   
  
He took off the cap, twirling it on a finger. "'Why?' is always a loaded question Q-man. The war's over right? As keepers of the peace, we are victorious. We won; the peace we fought for is still being protected so we are not useless. We pilots, I mean. We have a point, a purpose. Hell, parents are naming their kids after us. There is nothing to be upset over."   
  
Quatre nodded, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When Duo didn't continue, he prompted the other pilot with "And?"   
  
Duo smiled. He never really stopped smiling; just one smile would blend into another. "And everyone is celebrating, happy. Quick question Quatre. Which was more important? My skills as a pilot or me? The warrior or the jester?"   
  
He gestured with his cap, the movement comprising the room, the world, the colonies. "The people out there need me, the warrior, to protect them, and I am fine with that. But they don't need me. It could be anyone; so long at they are protected. So the warrior is content. But ME... Duo Maxwell..." Duo's smile shifted again, and it was the saddest smile Quatre had ever seen. He felt raw emotion pouring in waves off the second pilot.   
  
"Well, why don't we just say that Duo is an apt name? My feelings couldn't be more opposite. I knew what I could do before. I knew my place amongst you. But who can the jester aid when everyone is happy?"   
  
Quatre struggled for words to placate the young man beside him. He opened his mouth to speak but Duo raised a hand, and he closed it again. The long braid swayed with the movement of the violet eyed one's head shaking. "Words cannot change anything, Quat. We know that better than anyone."   
  
Bottle followed glass, sliding to Quatre's hand. Duo stood, tossing a few bills upon the bar top. Placing his cap on his head, Maxwell left without looking back once, his smile firmly in place.   
  
~*~*~   
The End   
*~*~*   
  
AK Gaston 


End file.
